


Wolven Trial

by thelittledragonling



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Lavellan/Solas Fluff (Dragon Age), Protective Solas (Dragon Age), Slow Burn, Solas (Dragon Age) is Grim and Fatalistic, Solavellan Hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25269715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittledragonling/pseuds/thelittledragonling
Summary: His arms felt safe around her.His voice brought her back to light in her darkest hours.Her listening ear was such a rare treasure to him.Her smile worth even more.Yet the love they slowly built up from ashes of broken pasts might prove too painful.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Inquisitor & Solas (Dragon Age), Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 7





	1. A Pleasant Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really run away from this romance but I can’t so here’s my therapy  
> I know the first few chapters are short but these are more of a prologue than chapters so anyways i hope you’ll enjoy this and the upcoming chapters! I have a lot planned for this fan fiction!

“Excuse you.” 

Her words were bitter and her glare sharp. 

She held her arms crossed to form some sort of barrier between them, even if it was simple flesh.

”Got a problem with the Dalish? Allergic to halla? Or do you treat every elf with some pretty symbols on their face this way?” she spat.

He shifted in place, his hands locked together behind his back and his eyebrows furrowed in frustration as he argued his point, unrelenting. 

What a wonderful start to a long journey together. She could simply walk away but her blood boiled at his assumptions about her simply for the vallaslin that branded her skin.

Their first few days were mainly disagreements upon disagreements, first on elven culture then on blood magic. But perhaps they were both at fault, the way they were going off at each other in their conversations.

”Ah, Herald.” he mused just as she walked past him, her feet digging in the snow and making a crunching sound.

There he was, his looks as judgemental as ever and his hands behind his back once more. His eyes were not as sharp as they usually were when he spoke to her. Other times, they almost felt like ice, though her own gaze probably felt like scorching fire when their arguments raged on.

Just wonderful.

”I must apologise.” he suddenly said.

His shoulders relaxed and his hands dropped to his sides. He sighed. 

Wait, what?

Was he actually apologising to her?

”I misjudged you and I should not fault the Dalish for something they could not achieve due to a lack of knowledge. I propose we start over, a mutual bond is necessary for us to survive the coming months. I do not wish to make an enemy of you and be killed by the end of the year.”

She raised an eyebrow.

”That’s.. oddly generous of you. You’re aware who you’re talking to, I hope?”

He laughed.

Laughed.

In her presence, at that. What was happening?

”I certainly hope so. I have found myself pleasantly surprised at your actions during our journeys. You helped the starving people in the Hinterlands and rescued many people from the rebel mages and the templars. You did something as simple as retrieve a wedding ring for a stranger to raise her spirit. I have misjudged you and I wish to start over.”

He smiled at her and leaned against the wooden hut behind him, crossing one leg over the other.

”We will have our disagreements. I will need time to see you as anything but a judgemental ass.” she said with her nose scrunched up, her arms on her hips and her tone sharp, cutting like thorns.

An agreement she thought would be quite difficult to stand by. Their journey, though steeped in the fog of the unknown, was young.


	2. Your Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their journey to Val Royeaux prompts them to speak of promises to protect each other, despite their disagreements.

The day went by slower than she’d liked. Lavellan soon found herself in the midst of a crowd of shemlen, a race of people she was taught to guard herself against. It helped that the shems seemed terrified of her, one even cowered away and screamed at the sight of her. That alone spoke volumes of the people’s opinion on the Inquisition and their heretical and savage Dalish Herald.

  
  


She tried being civil, telling the ’Revered Mother’, as the shemlen called her, that she was not the enemy. She didn’t listen however, getting knocked out by the templars as a result

The encounter was anything but pleasant, with Cassandra trying to talk sense into a fellow Seeker.

Lavellan stepped forward, about to give this brainless shemlen a piece of her mind when she felt a hand gripping her wrist. Long fingers curled around her and gently pulled her back. Varric was on the other side of Val Royeaux and Cassandra was speaking to the Lord Seeker, so it had to be Solas; preventing her from causing a scene in front of the very people claiming their Maker would never send an elf at their hour of need. She tried to pry her hand away from him, her attention largely focused on the man in front of her. 

  
  


Who on earth did he think he was? Who on earth did both of them think they were?

One holding her back like she’s some common thug and the other almost spitting in her face. 

  
  


What a prick, the both of them.

When the Lord Seeker marched, with their heavy steps stomping the stone throughout the city, Lavellan turned her attention to the man holding her back.

“What was that for?! I’m not some dog you can leash like that!” she said, her words dripped with venom and her fury boiling like water overflowing a kettle that sat too long above a campfire.

“We can’t give them what they would consider proof you are a ‘false’ prophet. The crowd would be even more hostile if you were to act rashly.” 

  
  


Ah, yes. He would lose his only means of dealing rifts should she act out of anger and cause people to turn against her. They’d all run out of use for her. 

  
  


But Solas was right. She was an elf in a human world now and she had to think carefully. During her days in the clan, she was free to express her anger should any of the idiots there upset her. Here, things were different. Everything was a game, carefully planned out like a game of chess, from the politics all the way to mere conversation.

  
  


“You’re right.” she sighed. “They’d turn even more hostile if it were an elf acting rashly.” 

She was such a fool, hissing at everyone like a prey caught in a den of lions.

She never expected a partnership to form between them simply because of their shared race, however. Even if it was a minor one.

“We have to be careful.” Cassandra added. “They would be hostile against any declared heretic, elf or not.” 

Even if Cassandra was right, the damage would be far worse if an elven Herald would be the center of the scene. Humans were above the elves, as most of her kin here were either servants or living in rundown alienages. The thought of being surrounded by people who saw her as a lesser being unsettled her, it infuriated her. 

But most of all, it frightened her. An act against a human in defense of an elf was illegal, or so she had been told. Should she defend herself here, it would be against their backwards laws. The thought of keeping a hand on her staff came to mind, but should she act on that thought, it would bring trouble where none needed to be brought.

“Come,” Solas said and lightly pulled her wrist. 

Lavellan followed him as he lead her to a nearby fountain. Cassandra and Varric left shortly after they departed, probably scanning the stores for supplies.

The fountain was made of smooth marble with a single plaque and a golden lion in the middle, water pouring from its mouth and splashing on the blue pool beneath. The sound reminded her of the ponds and waterfalls she’d bathe in during her time with her clan. The sound of water moving as her fingers ran through was therapeutic. They sat down and she stared at the lion that glinted in the sunlight.

“You need not fear them, da’len,” Solas finally said after they remained seated in silence.

“I don’t fear them,” she replied.

“You do not need to lie to me. We have had our disagreements but I intend to return the favour.”

She lay her eyes on him, puzzled and curious.

“Favour? I don’t seem to recall doing any favours for you,” she said.

The corner of his lips curled upwards and his gaze seemed a lot more tender than usual. 

He was trying to get in her good graces.

A wise decision and one she should probably make herself. They were going to work together, a lot of lives were at stake.

“Your promise to protect me.”

Yes, that promise. She made it out of empathy and concern for a fellow mage. Lavellan saw much of herself in him, an elven apostate surrounded by Chantry forces and alone, most likely longing for a home that is now far out of his reach.

Much like herself, he was trapped. 

“I haven’t done much protecting, we haven’t done anything but argue after our conversations back in Haven. Still, I appreciate it,” she said, her voice softened as she spoke and grinning from ear to ear. 

For a moment, she felt happy to have a conversation with someone that didn’t involve one of them suspicious or that didn’t descend into a quarrel.

But she couldn’t let her guard down just yet.


	3. Indomitable Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas helps Lavellan get through her time with the Inquisition. After Redcliffe, Lavellan wants to study the time magic used with the rifts before meeting Alexius in Redcliffe Castle.

She had been difficult to handle and she knew it, rejecting the notion of friendship with anyone in the Inquisition, especially the humans. Lies were all the humans knew, lies she knew all too well.

Lavellan could only remember fragments of her past, the past she had before the Keeper took her in and made the clan Lavellan her family. For the first time people accepted her and they eventually became her family. The Keeper, she saw as a mother above all and her kin who greeted her with gentle kindness, her brothers and sisters.

Memories of shaking hands summoning fire upon a bundle of sticks came to mind, sitting alone in a forest of snow and leaning against an ice-covered tree. Lavellan visited the tree often before Keeper Deshanna found her, helpless and alone. She used to pluck the apples from its branches before that faithful day, round and as green as the grass that hid behind silver snow. That same silver colour marked her skin, the vallaslin that symbolised Mythal.

_As fierce as the All-Mother._

Those were the Keeper’s words as she gave her the blood writing of Mythal.

Her late mother wanted a different one, she supposed. She didn’t remember much of her mother and thus the role of a mother remained vacant until Deshanna quickly took it upon her to raise the young Dalish elf, born into Thedas sixteen years ago by the time she became Deshanna’s first. 

She had to protect the clan from the Breach, she had to repay them for the kindness of saving her life and to do that, she had to make peace with the Inquisition that had taken her in as clan Lavellan did many years ago, though less hostile and suspiciously.

Solas’ promise came to mind and his endless advice. He tried to help, he sensed the thick walls she built between herself and the people that surrounded her. He sensed her fear like a wolf would his prey, but this wolf seemed anything but hostile now, despite their quarrels before.

_They will not bite._

With Solas’ words lingering in her mind as a support for her not to crumble and run away, she spent her afternoon with Cassandra, the one person she couldn’t seem to get along with. Exhausted, she returned to her room within Haven, the first room she had ever slept in, save for the prison she was trapped in not too long ago. 

“Any success?” 

_Speaking of Solas. . ._

He closed the door behind him, the soft but cold breeze interrupted by the piece of wood that separated inside and outside.

“Ah, um. I think so?” she answered, her expression dipped in doubt. “Wait, how did you-?” 

“I saw you talking to Cassandra and you were not at each other’s throats. I figured it meant you tried to find a way to get along somehow.”

She sighed.

”I cannot seal that damned thing in the sky with enemies surrounding me. In other words, it would be harder if they were to be my enemies,” she pointed out.

Thedas was not the reason she wanted to seal the Breach. As soon as it was sealed, she was going to disappear, as swiftly gone as she came.

It was quite the team they had gathered here; A Red Jenny who made jokes and swore enough to make a sailor blush, a dwarf with a silver tongue and a knack for nicknames, a hot-headed Seeker who might actually kill people with her sharp eyes, a Qunari and that in itself was strange enough for her, an Enchanter with a heart of solid steel, three diverse advisors to. . . a nonexistent leader, and of course, Solas, the one man she learned to trust to an extent.

Solas taught her the ways of human society. She couldn’t help but be grateful and get slightly attached to him. She wondered if he felt the same.

”Thank you,” she finally said, filling the rather comfortable silence as he sat next to her on the blankets atop her bed. “I appreciate your advice and. . . your company. They help a lot. You help.” 

His lips curved into a small smile. 

Huh, he did smile after all.

”I am glad to hear that. These are trying times and you have shown a thoughtfulness I have come to respect. I am glad to call you a friend.”

Silence.

”If I may, of course.”

She laughed and placed her hand on his, which lay on the soft blanket beneath them.

”You may.”

The touch held not a hint of awkwardness. It felt natural, like they’d been friends for ages beyond their mortal lives. She had finally made a friend outside the wildlife, inside the Inquisition, no less.

But she had to remain cautious. Her heart ached when she remembered her plan to disappear when the Breach was finally sealed. Maybe he could come with her, maybe not. It was a difficult decision.

As planned, her meeting with Grand Enchanter Fiona commenced the day after. The day held a lot of surprises, mages sworn to the service of the Imperium and a new ally gained. A new Tevinter ally, however.

Time magic. Was such a thing even possible? Should she believe these wild claims?

Another evening dawned and her arms held a small stacks of papers as she made her way to his room. 

The cracking of wood greeted her when she set foot in his room, a single fireplace keeping the place warm and a wooden table next to the chair he sat on, where a number of books lay waiting to be read.

He studied the letters carefully and she could see the nape of his neck as he leaned forward in his chair. His focus was completely on the brown pages in front of him and his elbows resting on his knees. She never truly took the time to notice how attractive he seemed. His shoulders were broader than that of the other elven men she saw, his stature taller and his body built just enough for her taste. 

He was very handsome, indeed.

”Did you need something?” 

The sight of the back of his neck was quickly replaced by his sharp jawline.

Her gaze met his when she realised he had turned to face her. She might’ve made too much noise coming in.

_Well, shit._

”Yes! I was hoping we could look into the magic used in Redcliffe before we make our way to the castle. I made some notes, if you’d care to hear me out.”

“Go ahead, lethallan,” Solas agreed.

He stood to place the books back in the bookshelf in the corner of the room and she placed the stack on the wooden table.

She picked up the first few papers and began to explain her reasoning and findings.   
  


“—and this would explain that perhaps the strange figure I saw in the Temple of Sacred Ashes might be the reason Alexius can use time magic. We will have to be careful.”

As she spoke, he seemed to study her every move. From the spark in her eyes to the expressions in her hand movements. His eyes carefully watched her.

_Had she impressed him?_

He certainly seemed impressed.

Her eyes lingered on his own, as blue as the pools she loved to bathe in before she had tubs of water to fill. She always admired how clean these pools were, deep in the woods and the sound of water gently moving beneath her fingers soothing her mind just as his gentle gaze soothed her now.

Their gaze remained locked in the silence and he smiled.

”You impress me. Your passion for these matters speak volumes on your personality and your mental capacity,” he said and broke the silence between them.

His voice felt like smooth silk, a lullaby whispered to her in the softest way. 

How could a voice be so gentle yet so deep?

“My mental capacity?” she asked in return.

”Yes. You hold a vast knowledge on many things and your mind seems to be at work even on the battlefield. It is remarkable.” 

Vivienne has mentioned her skills before, surprised she could hone her magical abilities even without the training of the Circle.

“Yes, it has to be at work at all times. I am a mage, after all,” she replied in jest.

”Yes, you train your will to withstand possession. Your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit. I have yet to see it dominated, the sight would be. . . fascinating.”

Was he—?

He was flirting with her. Did he catch her lingering stares?

”And I assume you’d be the one to find out if it’s truly as fascinating as you believe it might be?” she said, placing the palms of her hands on the edge of the table and slightly leaning forward. “I would have to disappoint you. My indomitable focus isn’t so easily dominated, Solas.”

Her name rolled off her tongue smoothly and her tone lowered slightly at the mention of it. 

“We shall have to see.”


	4. Visions of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan embarks on her journey to Redcliffe Castle but when Alexius sends her back in time, she finds she’s all alone in the now corrupted castle.

The journey took only a few days with the need of sleep and meals interrupting their path. They set camps wherever they could when needed and fought some enemies along the way, bandits messing with travellers on the road or templars hunting for the remaining rebel apostates and the occasional demons that poured out of the rifts they closed on their way.

With one of the demons they faced, one had hit her knee with a shard of ice. The shard tore the skin open and a sharp pain inflicted upon the open area. Solas grabbed her shoulder before the demon could strike again and pulled her towards him, her back pressed against his chest as he held her closely.

”Take care of her, I’ll take care of the demons!” Blackwall said. Granted, there were only two lesser demons left.

Solas lead her away from the scene, much to Lavellan’s objections. She didn’t want to leave him to fend off these demons alone. Even if there was no rift to close this time, only demons to fight, that did not reassure her in the slightest.

“I have to—“

”Hush,” he interrupted.

His hand gently lay upon her waist and he guided her to sit atop a rock and he set wards around them, in case the demons would show, she assumed.

He knelt in front of her and placed his staff on the grass beneath, his right hand hovering above her wound. A teal light engulfed his fingers and the shard that was stuck in her skin vanished along with stinging ache on her knee and the bleeding, leaving a scar in its wake.

“That should help. Are you feeling alright?” Solas asked.

”I’m fine, it’s nothing serious.”

”The shard went quite deep.”

She sighed. This just had to happen at such a crucial time.

“Thank you, Solas,” she said and placed her hand on his shoulder for support. He stood up and allowed her to wrap her arm around his neck.

The closeness felt good. A closeness with another living being she hasn’t had in a while.

Throughout their journey to Redcliffe, he continued to heal her wound little by little every time they set camp and he supported her as she regained her ability to properly walk.

He was gentle and kind with her, never pushing her or getting frustrated. He held an aura of serenity that she found herself enraptured in. It brought her immense comfort to be around him.

The journey was a lot easier when she was in his company. When they finally arrived at the castle, it was unlike anything she was used to. Such tall walls, even taller than Haven’s Chantry. And at the center of the room, all the way at the back, was magister Alexius with his son. 

He said she had a gift she didn’t even understand and he was right. What the mark on her hand was has always been a mystery to her, one she intended to crack by all means. Alexius would continue to call her a mistake and insult her very existence like it would matter to her what he thought she was. What did matter was the amulet he held in his hand, a green light emerging from it. 

She heard Dorian yell next to her and panic rising as her heartbeat quickened and soon, her vision faded to black.   
A familiar soothing voice calling out her name was the last thing she heard but even that blurred out in her mind. 

She groaned when her heavy eyelids finally allowed themselves to lift up and her consciousness slowly but surely returned. Her body felt heavy and her stomach turned as she slowly pushed herself up with her arms.

“By the blood of the Elder One!”

An unfamiliar rang in her cell.

”Where did she come from?!” 

One of the guards quickly moved to grab her arm and pressed the cold steel of his sword on her neck. She had no time to think or even fully awake from her unconscious state. A bolt of electric energy shot from her skin to his blade, travelling up to his arm and stunting him as he stumbled backwards.

Her fingers curled around her staff and a chain of lightening hit the stunted guard behind her before she turned back around and flanked the guard in front of her.

Her body moved with rapid speed and grabbed the weakened guard by the collar, her staff now resting on her back and a dagger replacing the empty space in her hand and the sharp material now pressed against the skin of his neck.

”Where am I? What’s going on? Are there others in the building? Answer me, now!”

He was silent, only whimpering in her harsh grasp. 

_Useless_.

She drove the blade against his neck as hard as she could, leaving a gaping cut in his skin and a dead man falling as his blood flowed in the water. 

She stuck her blade back in its place on her belt and examined her surroundings.

Nowhere did she see her companions. Not Dorian, nor Blackwall, or—

Solas.

She was alone and calling for her companions.

”Blackwall! Dorian! Solas!”

Her desperate cries echoed through the halls and realisation dawned on her that they might be as dead as the castle itself was.

The corridors were empty and red particles floated around the red lyrium that grew from the walls like a plague spreading through the walls.

Her heartbeat sped up with each passing second she spent alone.

”Dorian! Solas, please, where are you?” 

Her panicked voice trembled with each cry and her breathing became heavier. She stumbled upon a corridor and bumped into something. The unknown object appeared to be hanging from the ceiling and swung softly against her back. When she turned around, her sight was greeted with a terrifying image; a hanging body, open wounds infested with worms and a horrified expression. A circle of blood drawn on the floor as the body hovered above, with patterns and symbols unknown to her.  
  


The sight of the worms brought a sensation that tickled up her back, imaginary worms crawling all over her skin. The blood that formed patterns in front of her feet caused anxiety to wreck havoc on her mind. Her scream echoed through the walls and she fell on her backside, her arms crossed against her chest as she held herself in panic.

”Lavellan!” 

Dorian entered the corridor from one of the doors on the side and rushed to her side. He knelt and grabbed the sides of her face.

”Hey! Hey, look at me!” 

Her short and trembling breaths slowed.

”I. . . I apologise,” she said after finally regaining her ability to breathe steadily, her fingers still shaking slightly. “I am— alright.”

Pavus took a quick look at the sight behind him, the sight that caused Lavellan to panic. Her body still trembled slightly as he wrapped his arms around her.

”It’s over now. I am here, you are not alone,” he whispered to her in an effort to calm her.

He took her hand gently and pulled her to her feet, his arm still around her. It brought a sense of security not to be alone in such an unknown and horrible world.

”Where- where are we?” 

“It’s not where, it’s when. Alexius sent is forward in time in an attempt to erase you from time completely.”

”I don’t understand. . . why go through such drastic measures just to have me out of the way?” she asked. “No matter, we have to find the rest! 

They continued to search, roaming the remaining corridors and dungeons. Everywhere she went, red lyrium greeted her sight, as crimson as her panic stricken eyes.

The dungeons were cold and held a ruthless air to them, blood smeared on the stone floor and iron bars trapping corpses and skeletons inside.

Were one of these skeletons Blackwall?

Or Solas.

_For all the is sacred, please don’t let it be Solas._

She would pray to the Creators once, long ago, praying for the safety of her loved ones. But prayers to gods always fell on deaf ears.

”Is someone there?” a familiar voice called out from behind the bars. 

“Solas!” 

She rushed to the cell and, as she suspected, it was Solas standing behind the bars. His eyes were pools of red corruption and he looked sick, his skin pale and dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t slept in a while which meant he hadn’t visited the Fade. She knew it to be a safe space for them both, it saddened her to know he hasn’t been able to feel the comforts of the Fade in what seemed to be a long time.

Dorian quickly opened the cell and Solas slowly stepped outside, relieved to be out of that claustrophobic place at last.

”Solas. . . you look ill. What happened?”

”I am dying but no matter. Do not concern yourself with me, we have a much more dire problem. The Elder One rules now, unchallenged after he has assassinated empress Celene. You must prevent this from happening,” Solas said, calm and collected despite the situation he was in.

”We will prevent this, I promise.”

Her emotions ruled over her logic, a thing that has not been true for a long time. Her heart ached for someone other than herself and few in her clan. Her heart ached for a man like it hadn’t in a long, long time. Her heart ached because she cared for him, more than she thought she did.

The realisation brought a wave of worry that washed over her and cleansed her of rational thoughts, which she heavily relied on. She was acting on her emotions.

”Do not forget this, lethallin. Remember this future so you may prevent it. This world is an abomination and we should bring it to an end as soon as we can.”


	5. A Saviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lavellan is alone and injured after the attack on Haven, the Anchor manages to save her life under control of a certain elven mage plus a fluffy (kind of) painting scene

The Anchor flickered on the palm of her left hand, weak but indisputable. Snowflakes fell before her eyes and her feet dragged heavy in the deep and treacherous snow. She had faced her enemy, the confrontation inevitably but terrifying still. Corypheus was his name, an enemy with a cause she understood to limited extent. This world was deprived of any form of gods in her eyes and this Elder One would set that right, to terrible cost. 

Even so, he was mad. And she would not forgive the innocent lives he had taken in Haven. It was his fault she was struggling to survive. Struggling in an unforgiving and cold clearing that only contained trees, snow and darkness, like she had done all those years ago. 

Lost and alone.

She could only follow the light in the distance as it continuously moved away from her. The further she went in the hostile forest, the sleepier she got, her body shivering and the cold embracing her body in a glacial hold.

This reminded her of her last night in the forest before she joined her clan, her wooden staff broken and her foot injured from her stunts in the trees. The only difference is that was during spring and this was definitely winter.

Winter. . .

What she would give for a warm fireplace, comforting warmth and a cooked meal. Grilled meat and steamed vegetables on the side. . .   
Her stomach growled and she continued her path, fighting against the snow that held her back.

Each time her consciousness would slip, the Anchor flared once again. It was like the mark kept her awake, alive. Her knees caved in and she fell to the ground, voices blurred in her mind and the Anchor finally allowed her to slip into slumber. It had grown weak, giving the last of its power to keep her alive.

In her unconscious state, she’d find her way to the Fade, a safe space for her as it has been since her first day alone in the woods of northern Thedas. When she finally awake and slipped out of the Fade, she was greeted with her advisors and Cassandra arguing in the distance and a talk about beliefs from Mother Giselle. “I don’t see how my beliefs help. Corypheus is a real, physical threat and religion alone cannot defeat him,” she would argue.   
  


Their time in the camp was brief but effective in raising many questions for her; why did the Anchor behave the way it did and where did Corypheus get his orb? It was elven and if the humans would find out, they’d surely blame either her or Solas. Or both of them. She’d count Sera in but she would be at the bottom of their list of suspects. The orb had to be taken from his grasp as soon as possible and her and Solas had to be above suspicion as valued allies.

This time, her feet did not drag in the snow and the darkness had been replaced by clear morning light. She was one of the people leading the horde of refugees with Solas at her side.

”The mark,” she began as she hurried to walk next to Solas. “It saved me. How?”

”A thorough study of your mark allows for a small portion of control over it,” he replied, digging his staff in the snow.

”It was you.”

”You were in danger,” he said. 

She never imagined he’d go through the trouble. Sure, they called each other friends but the act of saving her life was no small feat. 

Her feet came to a halt and her mind tried to grasp at a proper way to thank him.

”Thank you,” was all she could say, her voice soft and gentle. Would it be crazy to think he actually cared if he saved her life?

Or was he simply doing this because she was a necessary tool.

Her nervous chain of thoughts broke when he placed his hand on her back and smiled, his smile small but charming. He stood rather close to her and at that moment, she noticed his freckles that were scattered across his pale skin. It was something not easily missed but they were much more defined from up close.

”There is a place where the Inquisition can build to prevent the events at Haven from happening once again. A place where you can remain safe, lethallin.”

He gently lead her forward as they climbed a small hill that allowed one to examine the horizon. A tall castle stood, towering its surroundings, a figure of wonder and a fortress to topple all others. It was marvellous.

“ _Skyhold_.”

The Inquisition had settled nicely in Skyhold after that, moving necessary equipments and what not to each quarter and each room. A majority of her time was spent planning the reconstruction of Skyhold, from the gardens to the main hall, from her quarters to the war room and so on. Her promotion to Inquisitor and leader made matters even worse as she was approached by many on matters that concerned both their mission and their base of operations, Skyhold. 

In the past months since they have settled in the fortress, she’s had little time for her own social life and thus decided to spend the free time she so desperately needed and earned, rightly so, with her friends. From Iron Bull teaching her to learn about the people she commanded to Dorian’s complaints about Haven and Corypheus. 

Her social battery had been completely depleted by the time she made it to the rotunda. 

Solas was painting the dull walls, adding cheer and colour to an otherwise grey room. His brush glided over the walls, a trail of green in its wake. 

Lavellan could make out a sword, likely symbolising the Inquisition and wolves howling. His current project seemed to be an account of their disturbing experience in Redcliffe and their alliance with the mages.

”You’re talented,” she said.

”You are free to join me if you wish.”

Solas turned, holding out a paint brush.

”I don’t think I have the talent—“

”Hush. Come, paint with me,” he cut her off, his tone gentle. He seemed so relaxed, so happy to be painting after what she assumed was a long time.

This brought a smile to her face and she picked up the paintbrush from his hand and stood next to him. For a moment, she stood still, unsure of what to do and Solas seemed to notice as he placed his paintbrush on the wooden desk, uncaring of the stains it would leave, and stood behind her. His long fingers gently curled around her hands and her back pressed on his chest as he guided her movements. 

Her heartbeat was rapid and quick and she could not deny she thoroughly enjoyed the proximity between them. For a lean man, his chest felt more muscular than she expected. 

_Focus on painting._

She tried as best she could to move her attention to the brushes against the wall, the colours merging together to form a pattern and the figures they painted together. His thumb brushed against her skin, his touch soft and caring.

 _He is doing this on purpose_ , _isn’t he_ , she thought.

They had flirted before. . .

”You are not as bad as you claim,” Solas pointed out and he let go of her once they had finished. A tall figure stood upon a hill of green. They had completed his painting of the mage alliance.

Solas stood still for a moment after she has thanked him.

”You have accomplish much. When I first met you, I thought you would be. . . different.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” she laughed.

”No. You do not disappoint me. Quite the opposite,” he said. “Let us talk somewhere more preferable than this.”

As they stepped through the gates, she found herself back in Haven. The people cheered and drank and laughed in the background, a happiness she remembers fondly. She made these people happy, she was praised and loved. 

She remembered the dungeon that Solas showed her, kneeling on the flour and chained like an animal. She remembered the Chantry and it’s entrance where Chancellor Roderick dismissed her efforts to close the Breach. 

As Solas spoke, she remembered it all and listened attentively. He spoke with such passion about his desire to flee, a feeling of guilt washing over her. Was she the reason he was caged here?

“You wanted to flee. . .”

”I was alone and surrounded by Chantry forces. I had no reason to stay,” Solas noted.

”I hope you don’t feel alone now. I promised to protect you, after all.”

”Yes,” he laughed. “And I will return the favour, as well. On our journey, I felt the whole world change. You truly do have a marvellous soul.”

His words felt more like a confession than anything and his eyes held a kindness to them only one who confessed a deep longing would have. 

“You felt the whole world change?” she asked.

”A figure of speech.”

“A figure of speech? A metaphor, I am aware of that but I’m more interested in felt.”

She stepped closer and her hand moved to touch his, her fingers lightly brushing against his skin.

”You change. . . everything.”

She was unsure what he meant and frankly she did not care. He was truly a sweet talker.

_Fuck it._

She placed her hand on his cheek

and moved his head so he’d face her. Without thinking, she kissed him and her lips entered a slow dance with his.

She quickly pulled away, however. He did not respond to her kiss, leaving her embarrassed. She felt like a fool and was ready to flee like an anxious child.   


His hands quickly took ahold of her wrists and he pulled her towards his chest, his lips pressing against hers once more and his arms wrapping around her. He leaned in and his lips with much more passion and longing than hers did before she turned to run away from the scene. But this time, she stayed. She couldn’t flee now, his arms held her tightly and she felt comfortable and safe and very much enjoying the heated kiss. The kiss that gained immense passion once he had started with tongue.

”We can't,” he said, interrupting the kiss. “Not even here.”

”We- we're fine here, what do you—“

”Where do you think we were?” 

That’s when it clicked.

”This isn’t real. The Fade. . .”

”That is a matter of debate. Probably best discussed after you  **wake up**.”

Consciousness came like a sea storm crashing upon her and the ceiling of her quarters greeted her blurred sight. Once fully awakened, she remembered the dream crystal clear. 

  
She remembered his hands on her, long and elegant fingers placed on her lower back. His body pressed so tightly against her, she wondered how it’d feel like if he didn’t wear any form of clothing. 

The passion from the kiss clearly had an effect on her and she closed her eyes, her fingers travelling down her stomach and images of him underneath her, on top of her or behind her flashing in her mind. 

In this moment, as her fingers moved against her, she found herself so grateful telepathy was a skill no one in this castle was capable of, especially Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Solas’ freckles and always mod it to make them more visible so I decided to include that! and I think it would be logical that Solas would have a hand in finding Lavellan after Haven


	6. Apples and Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A journey in the Fade to discover why Lavellan’s magic conflicts with the Anchor.

Every mage had their own style that determined the way of their movement, their favoured element, their specialisation and so on. After meeting the Grey Warden Alistair in Crestwood, Lavellan decided to choose a specialisation for herself. Skyhold was not the safest place to practice her sometimes unstable magic so she’d venture out with the mages of the Inquisition and her trainer, Vivienne, Dorian, Solas and— Your Trainer (???).

Odd to not remember one’s name but she brushed it aside in favour of her studies; the way of a rift mage.

There was hope that the Fade has insight on the instability of her powers and why the Anchor behaved so unusually, plus a bonus point for her interest in the world of dreams.

The group had settled on an island in the center of the frozen lake, by an unmarked campsite in Emprise du Lion. A perfect place to prepare food while warming oneself, though the banter between Vivienne, Dorian and Solas seemed less warm. Something about unwashed apostate hobos. They were words blurred by the distance between herself and their small camp.

Small snowflakes settled on her hair, silver contrasting against raven black as sharp and shocking pulses of pain slowly faded and the spells she practiced grew more and more unstable. Eventually, she decided to stop lest she accidentally hurt one of the Inquisition soldiers that scoured the area to secure it for them.

She sighed and plopped down on the thick ice. It was thick enough to hold her, luckily but that did not erase all her worries. As hard as her magic was to master, it had never been this unstable. It was unstable when she first became Deshanna’s apprentice but that instability had meant her survival in the woods where she wandered alone and forgotten.

Now, she had to master it all over again plus the insufferable Anchor. 

Another spell should do the trick.

She raised her arms with staff in hand and formed ball of thunder and lighting in her mind. She felt the mana surge through her and her magic slowly pulse within her and then—

Another surge of pain.

Another one! _Damn it all_!

Green flashed before her when she held out her arm and in midst of her frustrations, she threw her staff on the frozen surface. 

Why did this keep happening to her? 

Upon many failed attempts, she called Solas to accompany her on the frozen lake.

”This damned thing! I can’t even use my magic anymore! I’m confused, what’s going on?” she huffed.

After so many attempts, even one spell brought a wave of pain. It wasn’t like this before but the pain was progressively getting worse.

“This is. . .most unexpected. Your magic is conflicting with that of the Anchor. You must make the Anchor your own, blend it with your own magical essence,” he said after taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “Give me your hand.” 

He took her hand and gently ran his thumb across her palm, touching her marked skin. 

“Making all the magical energy inside your mark your own would kill you thus I suggest we find a way to take only a little of the magic. I would not want you killed.”

“But how? I don’t even know how to control the thing, let alone take its powers and make it my own.”

”Fear not,” he whispered and place his free hand on her cheek, setting loose wave of relief and comfort inside her. “I will help you.”

A quiet place would be needed for this, for her focus to be solely on the Anchor and she knew just the place. She had discovered a place, a ruin where a stone-set Dread Wolf stood tall and the ceiling lay in ruins on the snow. It was a quiet place, with only the wind and howling of wolves heard. 

“Ah,” Solas let out a breath upon setting his eyes on the towering wolf. 

“Familiar with this particular member of the elven pantheon, I take it? Fen’Harel’s statues and curses are used so much with the intention of either scared off ill-fortune or insulting one another.”

”What else do you know?” Solas asked.

“I remember tales of how the Dread Wolf would hunt me for being a disobedient little girl and so, he never did. So much for a god, huh,” she laughed as her gaze fell on the grey stone of the statue. “ ‘May the Dread Wolf take you’. A phrase said to me so many times.”

Her tone fell, a certain tone of melancholic overshadowing her previously cheerful aura but she shook it off as soon as it came.

”Back to business, then!” she declared. “We need to get the Anchor under control and for that we need to understand its magic, correct?”

Solas nodded.

“Yes, that is true but we must also learn how your magic works. I have noticed this does not appear to be the first time you struggle with unstable magic. We must find out why your magic has such a chaotic nature,” Solas quickly added.

At that moment, she remembered Cole’s answer to her question about what he saw when he looked at her.

    _You reach across, mindful, meaning. You pull it through to this side, make it real here._
    _Blood that is not blood, scattered where life begins anew, pushing, pulling and tearing to shape perfection._

Finding out about her magic meant finding out about her parents, more specifically her father. The thought terrified her.

”We— we need to search the Fade for memories,” she pointed out after a few minutes of silence. 

“You are certain?”

”Yes. Tonight, I’ll search for you in the Fade. It would mean a lot to me if you were there.”

”Of course, lethallan.”

Lethallan. Even after the kiss, he would continue to call her that. She couldn’t fault him for it, however, she **did** avoid the poor man until now. 

“Yes, well, I uh. . . Thank you.” 

Another moment of awkward silence.

That seemed to happen a lot but fortunately, the rest of the party had found them and they regrouped, ready to head back to Skyhold as the sun sank beneath the horizon.

Lavellan always loved returning to Skyhold at night, her feet sore and her body longing for a warm bath with bubbles and a nice cup of elfroot tea, the soft steam tickling her nose as she held it up.

Living in such luxury to have tea in a comfortable tub inside such a cosy bathroom felt like absolute heaven. She could see why shems preferred living inside stone houses instead of the wilderness.   
  


Slowly, she sipped her tea as she felt the warmth of her herbal concoction travel down her throat. A comforting feeling she missed, surrounded by the cold of Emprise du Lion.   
Her thoughts often roamed free when she bathed, whether it was in the moonlit nights of the forests or in the company of brick walls of shemlen fortresses. She thought of the search she and Solas would have in the Fade, searching for clues to her past in the form of her father and his magical abilities. The thought brought chills upon her back and fear in her heart.

Lavellan didn’t even know her father’s hair colour, let alone his magical abilities. This was going to be an emotional mess, wasn’t it.

That thought brought a sigh and she carefully stepped out of the tub, water splashing and moving as she left its embrace and a few bubbles remained and disappeared with a few rubs with a towel. Her wet hair left wet stains on her nightgown as she exited the bathroom and plopped down on the bed, blankets woven with orlesian patterns of red and gold and the matching red curtains of her bed released from the grip of the golden ropes that held them back. Her bed became her own personal fortress as the curtains separated herself from her own room. A safe space much like the Fade.

It made it much easier to fall asleep and her eyelids grew heavy with every breath as she slowly but surely slipped into the Fade, all but forgotten about the curtains and the stains on her white silk nightgown.

Oddly enough, she still wore the gown in the Fade, perhaps because it just felt so comfortable she didn’t think to change it. Luckily, it was quite long and reached her ankles so it wasn’t too uncomfortable for a quick journey in the land of the dreaming.

The floors of Skyhold were untested with bare feet but they didn’t feel too bad, minus the cold feeling of course. Though, some things were different than the Skyhold she knew. The usual Inquisition banners were replaced by green banners with stunning owls sewn in and the curtains towering above the hall were now green and white. The main hall held a lot more golden decorations than the fortress she knew and the windows had more owl motifs. The castle seemed a lot more. . .elvhen. Grand statues of pure gold stood tall against the walls and the sun reflected its lights back, making the golden material glimmer. The statues formed large figures holding bows as carved on those bows were letters she could but barely decipher.

 _A_ ncient _elvhen_ , she thought.

Her studies as a First gained her only a tiny glimpse of the language and culture of the ancient elves. Did the Fade adjust to her own curiosities?

As she pushed forward, her eyes followed ever motive, every pattern and every decoration on her path, hoping to store all this in her memory and write them down when she awoke.

Silk swayed behind her as she slowly descended to the courtyard which was adorned with green and gold marble arches towering over grass greener than she had ever seen. She could feel the raindrops on her toes and the vaguely visible rainbow suggested it had rained only an hour ago.

”Quite a sight,” Solas said as he approached her from the bridge that lead to the entrance of Skyhold. He seemed vague as to which sight he was referring to, herself or the fortress as his eyes remained glued upon her when he said that.

“I know exactly what you mean,” she said with a smile and her eyes held a hint of mischievousness.

”Do you like it? These are but glimpses of what Skyhold used to be. It must have geen beautiful,” Solas said and stood in quiet amazement, taking position next to her as they watched the bright sky that held hints of green among the various colours of the rainbow that sat so beautifully against the blue-green air. 

But her eyes focused solely on the man beside her. She had never seen the childlike wonder his eye could hold or the nostalgic grin that spread from ear to ear, he almost seemed like an innocent soul lost in beauty he adored. This was an innocence she had never seen in the elven mage.

He seemed happy here and she found herself caring much more about his happiness than she should.

”I thought you might like seeing how Skyhold was before the fall of Elvhenan. But no matter, we have matters to attend to,” Solas said and he took her hand as he slowly closed his eyes. She mimicked his actions, laying the palm of her left hand upon his and closing her eyes, the world fading to black.

When her eyelids lifted the walls and grasses were gone, the arches had disappeared and a forest had replaced the area with trees towering and higher and mightier than the ones she had seen in Haven. Now, these were the trees she was used to but one tree in particular caught her attention.

That one was an apple tree, shorter in height and had a small flower carved on it, a carving of her creation. 

“This is the forest I lived in, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Solas answered.

She approached the tree and knelt down to observe the small carving, her index finger gently gliding over the figure. A memory almost flashed before her eyes as she recalled it, a lone girl of 15 who sat right here with a small shard and carving a small embrium on the bark that stood like a painting canvas before her. 

“I used to come here every spring to collect apples. It might sound silly but I almost felt like this tree kept me fed, took care of me. Ridiculous, I know.”

Lavellan stood up, abandoning the memory and dusting off the back of her grown. 

“I do not think so. You sought comfort from nature where others would from less meaningful experiences. It is good,” Solas reassured her. “We are on the right path. Memories and clues to your path are being revealed as they should. I am happy you have such trust in me to allow me to see this.”

”As long as the rest of the Inquisition doesn’t know of our little Fade trip, I’m content.”

A chuckle rang through the forest, blending together with the birds chirping as they say on tree branches and the soft breeze rustling the leaves. “I would not dream of revealing our secrets.”

“Good,” she replied.

They made their way through the forest, leaving the apple tree behind as they left the memory of the lonely teenage girl deep in the forest. A memory that brought forth both emotions of nostalgia and melancholy.

Their journey primarily consisted of hunting for memories, clues to guide them to their final destination; her father.

The soil beneath her feet felt familiar, reminding her of her time as a Dalish elf. But now, she was more shemlen than Dalish or perhaps more city elf than her woodland kin.

”I’m afraid,” she admitted, the feelings of distrust she held towards him fading with each interaction as he reassured her and saved her so many times. A feeling of comfort replacing the guarded walls that crumbled down through the mere effect of his words.

”Of what we may find?” he asked in return.

”Of seeing him. I always wondered what he was like but I never dared to search for the answers because these answer, even if they’re not known to me, are scary.”

Solas didn't answer in words, only a hand hold and a smile.

That was enough to urge her to push forward. With a newfound courage at the thought of not being alone, they continued their journey and found a ruin. The stone walls had collapsed and the doors were enormous in size with swirls carved in white stone, not wood like the doors in Skyhold. The architecture held elven aspects to it thus she could examine every little detail and determine that this was a remnant of the ancient Elvhen. 

But why would her memories lead here?

Then it clicked, her mother was a first as well and her interest in the elven history surpassed even her own. Was this a memory of her mother’s?

 _Push forward_ , she thought and without a word, she and Solas pushed open the doors as she lacked the physical strength to do it herself. Her sight met with not a temple, but a forest with dead trees with branches that curled upward and a damp fog that blurred her vision. ****

“Where- where are we? Do you recognise this place at all?” Lavellan asked as she shielded her eyes from the damp fog with her arms, like that would help in any way.

”I. . . I have seen glimpses of a similar place in the Fade but no, this place I had yet to discover.”

Amidst the fog clouding their path, she raised her hand to cast a spell and push them away slightly, clearing only a metre of the path before them. A marble pedestal revealed itself, standing tall among the dead grass surrounding it. On top of the pedestal lay a ominous piece of stone with a red glow shining through the carved swirls. Upon closer inspection, the shard appeared familiar.

But she couldn’t understand why.

Her fingers reached for the unknown artefact but Solas’ hand stopped her as he took ahold of her wrist and furrowed his eyebrows. “Be cautious. We do not know what this is.”

“We need to take this, somehow. The Fade let me here for a reason and this seems to be it, I can’t just leave it here. What if this is a clue to find the solution to my Anchor problem?”

She knew she was right and his defeated facial expressions said all she needed to know.

”I’ll be alright. I have you to protect me, don’t I?” she added and smiled in an attempt to reassure him.

It was true, though. It would not be the first time Solas would protect her. 

He loosened his grip on her and hesitantly let go and her fingers curled around the stone-set clue, picking it up as the red glow proceeded to shine from between her fingers. She cast a spell over her newfound possession and the stone floated in her hand before disappearing in a smoke of blue veil fire. A spell to assure she’d wake up with the shard in hand.

”Now, we must return. Morning will come upon us soon,” Solas insisted but before he could turn his back on her, she grabbed his hand between her own. 

“Thank you,” she whispered softly. “It means a lot to me that you’re here with me. I just thought I should say that,” she added and when the realisation came that she had suddenly grabbed his hand, she released him as soon as she could.

But she truly was quite thankful.


End file.
